


spaghetti and ice

by watergator



Series: distract yourself with fics, it’s gonna be okay [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: dan hurts his foot on a run
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: distract yourself with fics, it’s gonna be okay [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663378
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	spaghetti and ice

Matt Bellamy’s voice is floating into his ears. Each beat of a drum or a bash against a keyboard key he takes another step. The song is fast paced, as is his own pace as he continues his run along the almost empty London street.

He passes the same tree he’s been passing on his new route. The same row of apartment blocks. There’s the bench. The little patch of weeds that need looking after.

He takes quick, careful breaths as he carries on past it all. All things he’s become accustomed to over the last few months; a path he’s got memorized.

He’s almost home now, just a few turns and a few more long paced and he knows how close he’ll be to climbing the steps to his front door.

The last of the song is fading in his ears and he’s starting to slow each step, letting his heart rate thud in his chest, slower and calmer with each beat.

He’s thinking about dinner, his stomach feels empty, and he’s dreaming about whatever pasta dish he’s sure Phil has prepared for him for when he comes through the door when suddenly—

“Fffff-“

He stops suddenly when he feels the sharp jolt of pain shoot right up from his foot through his leg where it radiates like a million tiny hot knives.

He’s taking heavy breaths, hands on his knees, teeth gritted as he tries to move past even thinking about how bad his foot hurts right now.

He can’t believe he’s was stupid enough to  _ roll  _ his ankle so easily on an uneven pavement where he knows he should know to be careful.

He hisses as he tries to add some pressure to it.

Nope. Definitely sprained.

He looks up at the long stretch of street he still has to go and he sighs.

Home has never felt further away.

*

He’s proper limping by the time he gets into the apartment. 

His predictions about boyfriend made pasta is correct when he’s hit with the smell of bolognese wafting through from the kitchen to where Dan’s doubled over in the hallway, trying to toe off his trainers without any more trouble his ankle is already giving him.

But it’s not dinner he’s thinking about anymore as he limps sock footed across the room. He needs to sit down; he’s tired, he has a headache and his foot is killing him.

He’s greeted by Phil who emerges out of the kitchen before Dan even makes it to the lounge.

He’s the very image of comfy; dressed down in joggers, one of Dan’s old T-shirts, his hair is a flat mess on top of his head and his glasses are perched in a wonky fashion on the tip of his nose. There’s a sauce stained towel thrown over his shoulder like he’s some sort of proper chef.

(Even if everything he’s making is just straight out of the jar.)

Phil’s smile falls fast when he looks at him.

“What happened?” He asks, voice laced in obvious worry.

Dan grits his teeth. He really hates making Phil worry, even over the stupidest of things.

“Bloody fucking… pissing foot,” Dan spits. He’s trying not to point his hurt towards Phil, so he hobbles past him.

Phil places a gentle hand on his arm.

“You’re hurt?” He asks.

They make it into the lounge and Dan lets out a groan as he sinks down into the couch. It honestly feels better than sex.

“No,” Dan lies. He lifts his poor foot up and rests it on the ottoman rather gingerly. He looks up to see that Phil is clearly not buying it.

“It looks hurt,” Phil says, a crease forming between his brows. He moves around him, setting the dinner stained towel down as he kneels down beside where Dan’s foot is elevated.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Phil’s eyes flicker from his foot to his face, and he sighs. 

“Will you just shut up and let me have a look?” He says in an exasperated tone.

Dan scoffs and rolls his eyes, and it’s apparently all the confirmation Phil needs because there’s careful hands taking their time to peel off his sweaty sock.

Dan hisses again, and bites down on his lip as they both take a look at the damage.

It’s swollen. And bruised, and most definitely a really bad strain.

Not broken though, thank god. Dan’s not sure he could live having broken his whole ass ankle on a run, when he comes from a family of avid runners.

Phil tuts as his cold fingers ghost around the shape of it.

Their eyes meet and Phil gives him a sympathetic look.

Usually it would annoy Dan, but now as he’s riddled with pain, he kinda wants to just sink into the comfort Phil’s willingly offering. Even if he  _ is  _ going to be a bastard about it.

“You want some ice on it?” Phil asks, brows still knitted together and eyes shimmering with a worry that’s probably unnecessary but still comforting to know is there.

Dan’s lips twitch into a smile.

“Go on then,” he says. “And don’t burn the dinner.” He reminds him. “I can smell it cooking from here.”

Phil stands up and then lets out a bark of laughter.

“Oh,” he says with a quirk of his brows. “I see how it is. Philly do this, Philly do that, eh?”

Dan crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. “I’m hurt!” He squeaks.

Phil just laughs again. “You  _ said  _ you were fine.”

Dan has nothing else to say so he just sticks his tongue out and laughs when Phil does the same.

“Be right back, your highness,” Phil groans with a fake little bow.

Dan chuckles as he watches Phil leave the room.

He eventually comes back with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel and two plates of spaghetti.

It’s not that bad after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr !! @watergator


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